


Added to the Arsenal

by roswyrm



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Letters, Pining, held captive, i'm. so sorry this keeps happening.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: 30- "What do you want me to say?"





	Added to the Arsenal

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY

Nela is the one who actually opens the letter because of course, she is. Ameline peers over the larger woman’s shoulder. “What’s that?” Nela shrugs her off, but Ameline comes right back over the other shoulder. She’s only been a paladin of Mars for a bit, but she’s already got the tenacity required. Got it in spades.

Ha.

Spades.

“It’s a letter,” Nela grits out, and Taandet snatches it from her. “Hey! I intercepted that fair and square, give it!”

The half-orc holds it out of her reach, and Ameline snickers at Nela’s attempts to brute-force the parchment back into her hands. So much brute force involved with Nela. It’s ridiculous. You can be small and clever and get quite the same results. Sometimes even better ones. Though, Ameline might be a bit biased, seeing as she’s the smallest paladin she’s ever met. Not the smallest holy person, though, that award goes to the Harlequin they’ve got in questioning. To be fair, he stopped being holy a couple of days ago, but, y’know. Whatever. Taandet grins as he reads, and he pushes Nela off of him with such force that she goes flying into the wall. 

Damn. Ameline can advocate for brains over brawn all she wants, but she’s gotta admit, that’s _pretty cool._ “It’s not a letter,” Taandet says. Nela roars and charges for him, but he sidesteps, and Ameline hops up onto her shoulders and puts her in a chokehold until she calms down. Taandet looks up at them both, a light in his orange eyes flashing like it always does when he has a plan. “It’s _leverage.”_  
\---  
So, turns out, the Harlequin’s name is Zolf Smith. Also known as “my dear friend” and “truly missed” and most notably, someone that a person named Hamidsalehharounal-Tahan (all smushed together, exactly like that, because literally every other inch of the paper was covered in fancy script that only Taandet could read) cares a lot about. Like, a lot a lot. Like, Nela wrinkled her nose and asked “is he trying to get into the Harlequin’s pants or something” a lot. Nela recognising any kind of affection is beyond bizarre. Ameline can’t imagine anyone caring that much about the pathetic, sarcastic, useless traitor they’ve got locked up in the re-purposed classroom.

Ameline is the one that gets sent in because of course she is. She’s only about a head taller than the Ha– than _Zolf,_ because he has a name now, and names work best for setting someone off. Nela got sent in first, to redeem herself after the necromancer’s little goblin servant managed to send her into a fit of rage more suited to a barbarian than to a paladin. 

She left the room with the Harlequin red-faced and seething, with less than no information. Taandet tried next. Same thing. So it fell to Ameline because of course it did. She’s little and non-threatening, and the smartest of all of them. Ameline the Athene, they ribbed her, because she’s more focused on the strategy of war than the bloodshed. Not that she doesn’t like bloodshed, just that she’s more worried about arranging the bloodshed. But Athena is less worried about the Undead, and Ameline needs to see every one of those things ripped from the Earth.

So. Mars it was.

“Good morning,” she chirrups. The Harle– _Zolf,_ his name is Zolf, she’s got to remember that. _Zolf_ glares up at her like he always does. “Are you going to talk today?”

Zolf shifts his gaze back to the wall he usually stares at. God, he’s pathetic. “What do you want me to say?” It’s the worst routine they’ve fallen into. Ameline comes in, all bright smiles and childish hopefulness. Zolf stares off into the distance like the sad coward he is and doesn’t answer any of her questions. Ameline adds another dent to the plaster wall outside of his room, then heals her fist back from bloody and bruised.

“Where are the Spades?”  
“Dunno.”  
“What is your connection to the Necromancer, Franz Kafka?”  
“Don’t have one.”  
“You just have to answers the questions, Harlequin.”  
“I don’t have answers, you prick.”

It’s the worst routine they’ve fallen into. So Ameline pulls out the letter (the leverage) and breaks the routine, the habit, the God-awful rut they’ve fallen into. “Alright,” Ameline says brightly, “then you can just listen.” Zolf blinks up at her, clearly confused. Nonplussed, though, until Ameline starts to read the letter. Well, Taandet’s reproduction of the letter. In print, instead of Hamidsalehharounal-Tahan’s illegible script. _“To my dear friend Zolf Smith_ — oh, isn’t that sweet? — _I hope this letter finds you well. I understand perfectly if you don’t want to hear from me, but I do miss you a great deal…_ um, blah blah blah, something about Sasha? Apparently, she’s, um... she’s got a magical degenerative disease. I wonder if that hurts? Something something, paladin you got replaced with... oh! _I understand perfectly if you don’t wish to come back, but I miss you. As does Sasha, I’m sure, though she’s less inclined to show it. Bertie isn’t really around anymore, so he wouldn’t be an issue. Not to sound desperate, but we really are better people when you’re around,_ yadda yadda yadda. It’s all very frilly.” The Harlequin is staring at her. 

Oh, Ameline hasn’t seen anyone look that heartbroken since she ate the last of Nela’s biscuits.

Ameline smiles sweetly at him. She flicks to the second page and squints at Taandet’s handwriting. “I think my favourite part is the end.” The Harlequin doesn’t even sit up, just slumps, staring miserably at the papers in her hands. Ameline beams at him, showing off her perfect rosy cheeks and adorable dimples. She says, conspiratorily, “Here, listen to this: he says, _as ever, I care for you dearly. I know there is not a small chance that you won’t ever read this, but if you do, I hope you understand how truly missed you are.”_ And the look on Zolf’s face, good God, Ameline can practically hear his heart shattering. 

Good, maybe it’ll make him _any_ modicum of useful. 

Ameline laughs, bubbly and infectious. “I’m sure he’s trying to be sweet, but isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?”

And that makes the Harlequin bolt upright, makes him snarl, “Shut up.”

Ameline giggles.

Got him.  
\---  
Taandet and Ameline work together to send a letter back.

_Hamid_ is the most useful tool in their arsenal at the moment, and they’re not just going to let him stop sending letters.

**Author's Note:**

> UHHHH SO YEAH. SORRY. i'm on tumblr @roswyrm hmu send me prompts and maybe i won't make something horrifically angsty for once


End file.
